Poet, journeyman, folksinger, senatorial candidate -- those are how his fans
describe Bob Roberts, the subject of a documentary by Terry Mitchell
(really a "mockumentary" written and directed by its star, Tim Robbins). The
camera follows Roberts around on his campaign trail against incumbent Brickley
Paiste (Gore Vidal) where he mostly presents the issues in songs, released on
albums with Dylanesque titles like The Freewheelin' Bob Roberts and The
Times They Are A-Changin' Back.

What I find most amazing is the ability of Robbins (and
brother David) to write songs for Roberts that portray a
political ideology 180 degrees from their own, and that are
darn catchy to boot. A soundtrack of all the songs (never
released because Robbins didn't want them heard out of the
context of satire) would surely have been a solid seller -- but
likely to what Robbins would have considered the wrong people.

Like in The Player, Robbins uses his baby face to make us
sympathize with what is essentially a despicable character.
Also as in that movie, many cameos enhance what we're
watching. Seeing James Spader, Helen Hunt, Susan Sarandon,
Peter Gallagher, Lynne Thigpen, Pamela Reed, Fred Ward, and
Fisher Stevens deliver news pieces on Roberts, particularly
within this documentary setting, is something that I can only
describe as surreal.

The behind-the-scenes shots of campaigning are slow at best,
often tedious. Alan Rickman plays the mind behind it all
with his trademark over-the-top subtlety. The performances
are all good, but Bob Roberts, really a one-trick pony to
begin with, takes up too much of the viewer's time.
A hackneyed subplot, involving radical journalist Bugs Raplin
(Giancarlo Esposito) trying to sabotage Roberts' campaign, is
unsure of itself. Are we supposed to support this man
because Roberts is so obviously not what he seems, or dismiss
him as the "lunatic" he is presented to be?

It's in the "moments" that Bob is best. The video for
"Wall Street Rap" uses the much-mimicked titlecard aspect of
Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" while a scene where
Roberts meets the local sheriff is taken straight from Don't
Look Back. Meanwhile, in a sharp parody of the politics of
Saturday Night Live (where Robbins debuted the Roberts
character in a short film), Roberts goes on Cutting Edge
Live as a musical guest. The host (John Cusack, who, to
date, has made six films with Robbins) refuses to go on in
protest and during the broadcast, assistant Carol (June
Stein) gets herself fired by pulling the plug on the whole show.

But the darkly humorous tone of Bob Roberts becomes far too
bitter and jaded for comfort when a chain of events revealng
Roberts to be a liar goes on far too long and chooses a
conventional way to wrap up.

Bob Roberts is a good idea that, unfortunately, runs itself
dry. It would have best been suited to a shorter format -- an
hour special on cable, perhaps, or as more short films on
SNL, focusing on the "moments" above. As it is, there is a
lot to like about it, but too much to like all of it.